


nothing can be gained (without giving in return)

by ohmytheon



Series: dangerous games [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, Gen, Hunger Games Tributes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Reaping Day for the Hunger Games; and no one is prepared when Alphonse Elric's name is called out. During his training under former winners Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye, Al must decide what he's willing to do to survive and protect his fellow tribute, a young girl named Nina Tucker. Along the ways, he finds some surprising allies in the estranged Xing tributes, May Chang and Ling Yao, and also the strength to protect the people he cares about, along with a will to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing can be gained (without giving in return)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. At first, I planned on this being pretty small and more focused on Alphonse and May. And then it took a life of its own. The whole thing was written while listening to the Hunger Games and Catching Fire OSTs by James Newton Howard.

The Reaping Day comes too soon, as always.

The Elric brothers get ready in silence, but tension fills the air. Alphonse knows that Edward is gritting his teeth while buttoning up his shirt, his mind distant and faraway. Ed doesn’t show things like fear, not really; he shows anger instead.

“C’mon, if we don’t leave now, we won’t be able to meet up with Winry,” Al says when he pops his head into his big brother’s room.

Ed nods his head and grabs the jacket lying haphazardly on his bed, walking past Al and heading out the door. Al takes one last look at his brother’s disaster of a room, sighs, and then follows him. It turns out that Winry is already outside waiting for them. Al thinks to compliment her on the flowing blue dress that she’s wearing, but the words die on his tongue. There’s really nothing he can say, not on a day like this.

When they get separated in the crowd – boys on one side and girls on the other – Al feels a strong spark of anger in Ed. His brother hates that Winry has to stand by herself while they have each other. He’d never say out loud that he wants to hold their best friend’s hand to comfort her, but Al knows his brother well enough to know that he does.

A woman from Central walks up on stage and starts talking on a microphone. No one actually listens, not even Al, who is attentive if nothing else. An absurdly prideful montage video of the Hunger Games is played on a large screen. No one actually watches. It’s the same thing every year. No one has to watch it to know what is shown.

“And now, time to see who our tributes will be this year!” the woman cheers. “Ladies first, of course.”

The woman dips her hand into a jar. Al’s stomach turns on its end. Ed’s hands clench at his sides. Neither of them says anything. It takes everything in him not to look over to find Winry in the crowd of girls.

“Nina Tucker!”

Al doesn’t breathe out a sigh of relief, despite the fact that his best friend has been saved from the Games, because a shaking, little girl is ushered onto the stage. _She can’t be older than eleven,_ Al thinks in a daze. That was the youngest age for the Reaping and it was the cruelest thing in the world that he could imagine. He’s too busy watching the girl in a pretty pink dress cry to notice that the woman is picking the male tribute.

“Alphonse Elric!”

At first, nothing registers. Al blinks, knowing full well that a name has been called, but…it couldn’t be… It couldn’t have been the name that he’d thought he heard. He doesn’t move, just stands there thickly, gawking back at all the kids staring at him in a mixture of horror, pity, and pure relief.

It’s only when the guards show up and grab him by the arm, pulling him towards the stage, that things sink in. Ed lets out a furious howl, leaping towards the first guard and punching him straight in the face. He’s just a boy though in the end and gets sent sprawling to the ground with one kick.

“Alphonse!” Ed shouts, scrambling to his feet and jumping again. He doesn’t even get a punch in before he’s knocked back by a baton. Shaking with anger and squinting from the blood dripping into his eyes, Ed struggles to sit up. “I vol–”

But Al looks back at his brother and shakes his head slightly. The look in his golden eyes says everything: _Don’t you dare finish that sentence._

Ed grunts and grits his teeth. Al can tell that he’s weighing his decisions: listen to what his little brother wants or volunteer in the Games in his little brother’s place. While Ed’s face is all pain and indecision, Al’s expression softens and he nods his head. This is what he wants. He’s okay with this. At least it’s not Ed. At least it’s not Winry. Besides, someone is going to have to take care of that little girl Nina. If he’s going to be in the games, that’s the least he can do.

*

The train ride is mostly silent.

Al spent the first hour trying to convince Nina to stop crying, but she only stopped because she fell asleep from exhaustion. As she slept curled up on the couch, Al looked out the window, trying not to think of that small little room they gave him so that he could say goodbye to Ed, Winry, and Aunt Pinako.

 _“You stupid,_ ” Ed’s words echo in his mind hours later, _“you should’ve let me volunteer for you. How can I forgive myself?”_

The things they did for each other… In the end, while they had Winry and Pinako, Ed and Al were all that each other had. Their father vanished into thin air when they were little and their mother was dead. Al knows that he would have wanted to volunteer had Ed’s name been called. It is a circle, a never-ending circle of sacrifice and love.

 _I don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for me again, brother,_ Al thinks.

The doors open. Al glances up and sees two people step into the room, a dark-haired man and a blonde-haired woman. While the man looks like he could care less about what is going on, the woman wears a serious look that seems to say that she cares about everything. They were on the stage during the Reaping. Everyone knows their names.

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. They were the victors that had changed everything years ago with their victory of the Games – their simultaneous victory of the Games.

In a panic and unsure of what to do, Al jumps to his feet and gives a funny bow. Mustang raises an eyebrow while Hawkeye turns her attention to the young girl waking up. Al looks at both of them, still hesitant, and sits back down. “It’s an honor to be mentored by you two,” he says.

Mustang sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is what we’re given this year to deal with.”

Hawkeye gives her partner a look of reproach, which almost makes both Mustang and Al flinch, and then turns back to Nina, who is sitting up and rubbing at her puffy eyes. “I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s time that we all talked,” Hawkeye says in a gentle tone. Nina sniffs and turns her gaze to the ground. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink. It’s been a long day.”

 _And it’s going to get longer,_ Al can’t help but think.

*

Central is a remarkable city and amazes Al – or at least, it would have, had he not known that he was essentially a few weeks away from certain death. There have been a few surprising victors in the Games, but everyone knows that career tributes are almost always the winners.

The first week flies by in a flash. Al barely has time to think about Ed back home when he’s being ushered from one building to the next, talking to people, getting fussed at, getting yelled at, getting gushed over, getting plucked and measured and pampered up, getting smacked in the back of the head by Mustang… He tries to stick close to Nina, to make sure she feels as comfortable as possible. Though he is still a bit short for his age, he remembers being as small as Nina and feeling like everyone around him were giants.

The opening ceremony is…strange. He’s forced into some pretty nifty get-up that matches Nina’s, but it still makes him feel more like a fool than a boy about to go into a battle to the death. The chariots bring him and the other tributes from neighboring countries to face King Bradley, a seriously imposing man with an eye patch, who gives a rousing speech for the crowd. _Congratulations on being picked to die,_ his one cold eye seems to say.

It’s after the chariots come back and they are pulled out of the ceremony back into some sort of normalcy that Al first actually sees her.

There’s a young girl from Xing, just another tribute, maybe two years older than Nina, still standing in her chariot, her chin laid on her arms which are resting on the chariot. Her fellow Xing tribute, an older boy, is arguing with their old grey-haired mentor. In his eyes, it seems like this girl is the only one whose outfit isn’t totally ridiculous. It’s a pink dress or maybe a kimono or, well, Al isn’t exactly versed in Xing fashion. Her hair is long, black, and braided, almost falling to her feet. That would be a problem during the Games.

And then she looks over at him, as if having sensed eyes on her, and blushes just as pink as her dress. Al freezes at having been caught staring. The Xing girl lets out a little squeak and then ducks out of sight into the chariot.

“Alphonse,” Mustang snaps, causing Al to nearly fall to the ground, “are you going to get out of that chariot or are you planning on dying there?”

*

Training with Mustang and Hawkeye is one of the most difficult things Al has ever done. He always leaves exhausted and bent out of shape. Hawkeye is the one harder on him; and while he tries to do what he can to impress her, make her proud, Al just feels like it’s all for naught. Mustang gets aggravated quickly. He usually sits on the sidelines and then makes snide comments about Al’s fighting skills.

One day, it’s just enough to send the normally very obedient and calm Al over the edge. “Maybe I would improve if you did more than just sit around all day and actually taught me something!” he shouts, right after Mustang calls him worthless because he let Hawkeye toss him to the other side of the room.

Nina puts her hands to her mouth. Hawkeye glances at her partner. Al breathes heavily, already feeling the hints of regret seeping in and the desire to apologize overcoming him.

Mustang smiles. “Some spark finally – now that is something I can work with. I knew you weren’t completely hopeless. I can’t help you if you don’t want to try to live.”

*

Training with the other tributes is another thing. It’s confusing and uncomfortable. They’re all so impossibly frightening. Well, at least the career tributes are. Kimblee has already made himself a well-known threat, making snipping comments here and there whenever he’s around Al. There’s a boy with long dark hair, always grinning and laughing, and incredibly strong for his size; and then a beautiful girl who uses daggers and knives, slicing everything in her path. There’s even a dark-haired boy that looks to be around Nina’s age. He seems unassuming for the most part…but there’s a dark energy around him that puts Al on edge.

“Ah, you’re the tribute from Amestris!”

Al turns around and spots the tribute from Xing walking towards him, a bright grin on his face. The boy is actually pretty cheerful considering their circumstances. “And you’re from Xing.” Everyone knows about Xing because nearly every tribute is a volunteer even though it isn’t a career tribute country. The fact that the old emperor had a lot of children trying to win his favor probably had a lot to do with that.

“Indeed I am. My name is Ling.”

“Alphonse.” Al searches the room with his eyes. “Where is the other Xing tribute?”

“May?” Ling shrugs his shoulders. “Oh, who knows. The girl sticks to herself for the most part, crying about her cat or something or the other.” He stops, as if to add something else, but then shakes his head. “I’m starving. What do you say we ditch this place and get something to eat? They’ve got a lot of incredible food here in Central I’ve yet to try!”

Despite the fact that his stomach growls at the idea of food and he hates this place and these people, Al hesitates. There are a lot of reasons he shouldn’t leave with Ling. He can’t just leave Nina here by herself and he didn’t think that Ling should toss away his fellow tribute away so carelessly. But it’s not his place to say that, so he says instead, “My mentors would kill me if they found out that I left training early…”

Ling laughs and claps him on the back. “Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about the Games then, right?”

Everyone would be out to kill him in a few weeks, Ling included. It really didn’t matter how pissed off his mentors would be if it meant maybe gaining something of an ally during the Games.

*

It’s while reading and trying to study some of the poisonous plants and food that he might be surrounded by and what terrain they could be thrown in that Al gets another shock to the system. Despite the fact that he’s surrounded by violence and shouts and grunts, he’s absorbed in the book, lost to the world. This is what he knows how to do. For as long as he could remember, he’s always loved to read. For the first time in weeks, he feels safe.

Until that is a dagger pierces through the book from the back.

Al lets out a yelp and drops the book. He’s sure that he’ll find that beautiful girl and the long-haired boy standing in front of him, wearing mirroring smirks, but instead he looks up to find the girl from Xing, May Chang, gaping at him in horror.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I–” May blushes bright red and turns to face Kimblee, who is guffawing openly. Though she is clearly embarrassed, she shoves the much taller boy, barely moving him. “That wasn’t nice!” Before Kimblee can tell her that he isn’t a nice person and the Games aren’t about being nice, she rushes over to Al, picking up the book and pulling the dagger out. “I’m sorry I ruined your book and scared you. I’m normally very accurate when throwing, but Kimblee tripped me.”

Al smiles reassuringly. “It’s quite alright, just startled me, is all.” He takes the book that she hands over to him. “I hope they don’t mind their property being damaged.”

“I’m sure they don’t,” May says, sounding darker than any girl her age should. “After all, we’re just property to them in the end; and they don’t mind when we’re hurt.”

Her words go straight to his heart, cutting him deeply. Both of them look down at the ground, lost in their thoughts. She’s right. Mustang and Hawkeye care, in their own ways, about him and Nina, but King Bradley and the rest of the people of Central, they don’t care at all. To them, the tributes are more like fictional characters than real life people. It doesn’t matter when one of them falls, except for the fact that a bet might be lost or money won.

“I know that I don’t have much of a chance at winning,” Al admits. May gasps a little and looks up at him, her eyes wide. He can see tears threatening to emerge, but she won’t let them out. Crying is something left to be done behind closed doors when you’re alone, not in front of the people that will soon be trying to kill you. “I’m not like the career tributes. I wasn’t born for this. I’m not even like my brother. He’ll fight until the very end. I will too, but I’d much rather talk and end the fight before it begins.”

“I’m not like my brother either,” May says, casting a subtle glance towards Ling that Al almost misses. “But I had to do this.”

Al’s eyes widen in shock. “You volunteered?”

May nods her head. “Yes.”

“But…why would you do that? I mean, you’re pretty fancy with daggers” – he waved the formerly stabbed book in the air – “but you’re so young and, well, small.”

“My people…” May clasps her hands in front of her and bites her lip. “Xing is a complicated place. With the emperor so old, all the clans are fighting. I come from the smallest and poorest clan. If I don’t win the favor of the emperor, my people could die out in a few years.”

“That’s a lot for anyone to shoulder,” Al says.

Suddenly, his situation doesn’t feel so bad. If he loses, Ed, Winry, and Pinako will be sad. Ed will be angry. He’ll probably do something incredibly stupid. That’s what worries Al the most – how Ed will react to Al’s death during the Games. Al can just picture his brother plotting some wild revenge against Central. But that’s it. If May dies, so does her people. He can’t imagine that sort of responsibility.

And then it hits him. He knows what he has to do. He’s already promised himself to protect Nina as best as he can. What’s one more person? “I will help you.”

May looks up at him sharply. “What?”

“I’ll help you,” Al repeats. He knows that it’s a tall order. What if it came down to just the two of them? After Mustang and Hawkeye changed the Games by both winning, Central and King Bradley have gone out of their way to ensure that never happens again. The last tributes that tried it were suddenly attacked by a pack of wolves and both were killed. It was one or nothing. “Like I said, I don’t have much of a chance of winning, but I want to protect my other tribute. That’s really my only goal. Allies during the Games are good to have though; and you shouldn’t have to do this on your own.”

The tears threaten to come out again and her bottom lips trembles, but May bites it down again and forces a watery smile. “Thank you, Alphonse.”

Mustang would probably call him a fool for the kind of allies that Al was choosing, but there are worse allies than seemingly weak girls. Al knows that May Chang might be small and look like any other girl, but she’s got a heart of steel underneath, more so than him.

*

Truly the most terrifying figure in Central is not King Bradley, but his costume designer, Izumi Curtis. From the first moment that he met her after getting half his skin scrubbed off in disguise as cleaning him to when she gave him his Opening Ceremony costume to now, Alphonse knew that he should both fear and respect this woman. Had she not been from Central, had she ever been in the Games, she would have won them right from the start with just one look.

“If you keep moving, I’m going to stab you!”

Al stays as still as he can while Izumi finishes up his outfit. “I’m going to look so dumb out there.”

Izumi fixes him with a glare. “Are you calling my designs dumb?”

“No, ma’am!” Al cringes and then slumps down. “ _I_ am. Everyone has something about them to interest people. Kimblee is savvy and dangerous; Ling is courageous and charming; May is surprisingly powerful and sweet; even Nina has a sadness about her to makes people want to help her. And I’m just…me.”

Setting the needle and thread to the side, Izumi stands up and brushes her hands off. “Then be you. That is all you have to be.”

“But there’s nothing about me that makes me special! Mustang says I have a personality of a soggy rag.”

Instead of a comforting hug or a pat on the shoulder, Izumi smacks him upside the head. “Who cares what Mustang says? He’s an ambitious idiot who only survived with his dignity because of his fellow tribute.” For a second, she softens, which is a rarity in itself and vanishes just as quickly. “Besides, he doesn’t mean it. Being cold and distant with you ensures that the guilt and pain isn’t as bad if he should fail you and you die. You want to know what makes you special?” She places her hand on his chest where his heart is. “You _care_ – without any concern for yourself. I see the way you are with Nina. You’re protective, like a big brother. You’re fighting to survive so that you can live to help others survive. There are very few tributes in the Games that are capable of being wholly selfless. I think you can be one.”

It is for the first time since his name was called that Alphonse feels the urge to cry. He hasn’t yet, something that Hawkeye has told him is problematic. ( _“Even Mustang cried,”_ she admitted when her partner was out of earshot.) But it is now, with Izumi the Terrifying, Al understands what has been in his soul this whole time. He was going to die, but he was going to save everyone he could first.

And then Izumi pushes him back, startling him and nearly making him fall on his butt, and points a finger towards the stage where Barry is calling Alphonse’s name. “Now get out there and show everyone that you’re not just some goody-two-shoe boy from a tiny village no one cares about! Show them that they’re putting a truly good human being on the chopping block and _make them feel it_.”

*

The night before the Games, when he should be resting for what’s to come, Al wanders around the building. He passes Nina’s room, hears her crying, and hesitates, hand at the door. No, she should be left alone for now. Sighing inwardly, Al continues on in the dark, not really knowing where he’s going and not really caring. _Maybe I’ll get lost and they won’t be able to find me for the Games._ And then Nina would be left to fend for herself. Ed wouldn’t do that.He would fight this head on.

When he makes it to the roof, Al spots a small figure sitting on the edge. “May?”

The young Xing girl turns around, blushing already at having been caught. “Alphonse, what are you doing up here?”

“I could not sleep,” Al admits as he walks over and sits down next to her. “I’m guessing you couldn’t either.”

“No.” May shakes her head. “Too busy thinking.” Al doesn’t say anything, just gives her a prompting look for her to continue. “I’d like to say strategizing, but not really. Part of me thinks I should try to ally with Ling, but a larger part of me knows that I could never trust him and he could never trust me.”

Cocking his head to the side, Al asks, “But you can trust me?”

May smiles up at him. “You’re earnest about your honesty. I watched your interview with Barry. It was very endearing and moving. Your family must be very proud of you.”

Al sighs. “I think my brother Ed is just mad at me. He tried to volunteer for me, but I stopped him.”

“Would you have volunteered for him had his name been called?”

“Of course.”

“You care very much for the people around you, Alphonse,” May tells him. “Do you ever just take care of yourself?”

For a moment, Al doesn’t know what to say. He has always tried to help others; and if he ever needed anything or needed taken care of, there was his mother before she died and then there was always Ed. His big brother was there to take care of him, but even then, Al did his best to take care of his brother. Ed could get hot-headed and impulsive. He got himself into a few messes. Sure, Ed was capable of getting himself out, but Al was always there to help him out, just as Ed was there for him.

Except now there is no Ed. It is just Al. And he has no one to protect him.

“You help me; and I’ll help you,” May proclaims. “Being allies is a two-way street.”

Al laughs lightly. “Equivalent exchange.”

“Always,” May responds.

*

“Remember,” Hawkeye tells him as she fixes his jacket, “water first, high ground second, food third. There’s no sense in hiding if you’re going to die of dehydration and no sense in eating if you’re going to be caught out in the open.”

Al nods his head. Hawkeye stares him straight in the eyes. Both of them know that there is a first rule before all of those things and neither of them will say it out loud because it goes against self-preservation. Nina. Nina comes first, then water, then high ground, and finally food.

“And no fires,” Mustang adds, sounding more begrudging than anything else. “I don’t care how cold you get, how dark it becomes, or if you can’t stand the idea of eating your food raw. Fires get you found and being found gets you killed.”

“Aye,” Hawkeye says, glancing back at him, “you learned that the hard way, didn’t you?”

Mustang grunts, but doesn’t actually say anything in response. Nina shuffles around next to Al, looking determinedly at the ground. She’s been almost completely mute for the past few days no matter how much Al tried to get her to talk.

“We will do our best to help you here in Central,” Hawkeye says. “Mustang is surprisingly charming when he wants to be and the people in Central adore him – or, well, the women do.” Mustang rolls his eyes, but there is a ghost of a grin on his face. Now isn’t the time for that though and all of them know it. “Good luck, Alphonse. We’ll be watching.”

Hawkeye steps aside and then focuses her attention on Nina, talking quietly to the young girl. A snap of fingers in his face causes Al to look ahead at Mustang.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mustang says. Al doesn’t speak. He knows it’s true. “Get Nina, and then do everything else together. Don’t – unless you want to get killed right away.”Al clenches his fists at his side, unable to protest because he doesn’t want Nina and Hawkeye to hear him. “Water, high ground, food. Those are the steps. Nina’s are different. Water first, then high ground to find you. She’s small; she’ll be able to hide and sneak around better. You, on the other hand, would get caught wandering around trying to find her. _Don’t_.”

Practically shaking, whether out of fear or anger or shame, Al grits his teeth and nods his head. He walks to his pod and watches as Hawkeye escorts Nina out of the room to hers. Though he hates to admit it, Mustang is right. He can’t protect Nina if he’s dead. First, he has to protect himself. He thinks of May, asking him if he ever takes care of himself, and feels a stab of guilt. Putting himself first, especially during a time like this, makes him feel like he’s turning his back on everything that makes up who he is.

“Also, if you’re ever scared, just think of Izumi Curtis,” Mustang adds as the glass tubing comes over him.

Al closes his eyes and forces himself to relax. He takes a few deep breaths, thanking some higher up that he doesn’t have asthma. He tries not to wish Ed was with him. He wouldn’t want Ed here; he wouldn’t wish this on any of his enemies.

This is it. This is the Hunger Games.

 _May the odds be ever in my favor,_ Al thinks as he begins to rise to the arena.

*

Absolute mayhem. Chaos. Screams. Laughter. Booms.

Blood – so much blood.

That’s what Alphonse remembers of the beginning of the Games. Hawkeye warned him that it would be a shock to the system and that he would have to push past it, but it was difficult to do so. There was food and water and, most importantly, weapons at the cornucopia – instinct telling him to run in that direction – but so did everyone else. And he heard Hawkeye’s voice in his head, _“You will want to run forward and get weapons, survival gear, all of the things that will keep you alive. Don’t. Turn on your heels and run. People are dangerous; you need to get away from what’s dangerous.”_

And so Al ran.

It feels like hours before he stops, but it’s probably only around one hour. By then, he’s huffing and puffing and feels like his lungs might just explode. Out of all of them, Winry was the fastest runner, Al the slowest. He just didn’t have the muscle that Ed had or the natural ability Winry carried. Collapsing by a river, Al drinks from it greedily, not caring about bacteria or whatever else might be in it. For now, he needs water. What he really needs is a way of holding water, but he’ll think of that later. High ground is next.

It’s hard not to get distracted with thoughts of Nina. He caught a glimpse of her disappearing into the woods, but that was the last he saw of her. Looking up into the thick of the trees where the sun barely glitters through, Al wonders what the time of day is. Half the day has past maybe. Nina should be looking for him now. As long as she’s still alive, that is. It seemed like half the tributes were already dead. Al would never be able to get the image of Kimblee gleefully slicing the neck of the male Ishval tribute out of his mind. That boy was strong too. How could Nina be expected to survive on her own?

And then there’s May. Al’s mind drifted over to the other younger girl that he promised to protect. He was so distracted after the buzzer went off and the bloodshed began that he hadn’t even seen her before booking it into the forest. His heart beats heavily in his chest, the worry over the two girls practically consuming him.

 _Some protector I am,_ Al thinks sourly as he looks up a sturdy tree. _I’ve only got myself to protect._

But then there is Mustang’s voice in his head: _“You can’t protect others if you don’t protect yourself.”_

Both Ed and Winry always got onto him about not taking better care of himself, always putting others ahead. It’s difficult though. All Alphonse has ever wanted to do was help others. It just makes him happy, like he can do anything. Seeing others smile because of something he did made him feel proud. Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe Izumi was wrong about him. Did he want to protect others for themselves or for himself?

“You’re being stupid,” Al mumbled to himself and then he started to climb up the tree. Once he reached a spot where he could perch and rest comfortably, he looked around and nearly gasped. Hawkeye was right about getting to high ground. He could see much farther than before. If anyone were to come around, he would be able to spot them way before they saw him, if they even could because of the leaves from the tree.

Now it’s just a matter of waiting. When it got dark, he would set up some traps for animals and intruders. Up here, he could see if Nina shows up. _We should’ve come up with some sort of signal,_ Al thinks. Better late than never doesn’t really apply here though.

*

Like an idiot, Al dozes off and wakes up to someone poking him in his side. He jerks away and nearly falls out of the tree, but that same someone grabs his arm and he’s able to steady himself. When he looks over in the dark, he sees May sitting in the tree with him. Feeling a jump of elation in his chest, he opens his mouth to say her name, but she just presses a finger to her lips and he closes his mouth. Then she points a little ways over to his left.

There is a boy and a girl, sitting by a little makeshift campfire, roasting some sort of animal by the look of it. The smell of the food is almost overwhelming. Mustang’s words of caution against fire are even more so.

Al glances at the fire and then at May, giving her a questioning look.

May shakes her head, returning a sad look.

They aren’t sitting in the tree for more than ten minutes before there’s a rustling in the forest. The girl and the boy at the fire jump to their feet and grab some sticks they’re using as spears, looking around to see what’s making the noise, but they don’t have the advantage that Al and May have. Al spots the group of kids before the others do and bites his lip. He watches silently as the group gets the jump on the two kids and overcomes them easily.

“Oh, look what we have here,” the beautiful career tribute girl coos, “a pair of firebugs.”

“Fireflies aren’t the only things attracted to light though,” the long-haired career tribute boy sniggers.

An older fat boy comes into sight and immediately launches himself at the food that was being cooked, biting into it viciously. “Ah, I’m so hungry, too! Thanks for being kind enough to cook dinner for us.”

The small black-haired boy with the dark energy surrounding him steps into the light of the fire. It casts an eerie glow on him, making him look like a sinister villain and not a child. May grasps Al’s hand, as if trying to contain herself from fleeing on the spot. He doesn’t say it, but he needed that as well. “Now,” the boy says coolly, “if you would be so kind as to die…”

Both Al and May look away, but they can still hear the screams of the two tributes being slaughtered. It only lasts a few minutes, but Al’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get those screams out of his head. The next time he sleeps, if he ever does, his dreams will be filled with their dying sounds. The cannons sound out twice for two deaths.

May curls up into him and he takes advantage of her warmth, wrapping his arms around her. He can feel her body shaking and knows that she’s trying to keep herself from openly weeping. That would only get them found. He forces himself to watch as the four career tributes finish the food, steal what they can from the dead, and then move on further into the forest.

Neither one of them are able to say anything, lest someone hear them and they get caught, so they just sit in silence until May falls into a fitful sleep. Al can’t sleep though. His thoughts are on Nina. Every time he heard a cannon go off, all he could think about was Nina dying alone and feeling betrayed by him.

Music starts, rousing May from her nap; and Al points to the sky. There, the pictures of the fallen show up, letting them know just how many have died. Both Drachma tributes, both Ishval tributes, thefemale Aerugo tribute, the male Creta tribute…

“So Ling is still alive…” May whispers, sounding unsure if that’s what she wants or not.

Al clenches his hands into fists. “And so is Nina.” He looks down at her. “Tomorrow, we find them? Unless you’d rather not find Ling…?”

“We can find Nina,” May says distantly, “and also food. I don’t want to die of starvation like half of the tributes in the 67th Games.”

Despite himself, Al’s stomach growls at her words, letting both of them know just what he thinks. He nods his head. Whatever is going on between May and Ling is none of his business, even though he got along with both of them, but Hawkeye’s words of “food third” came to mind. He wouldn’t be much of a protector if he was weak from hunger.

*

It takes two days before they’re able to find Nina, hiding in a cave and shivering, close to suffering from hypothermia. Al considers lighting a little fire since they’re in a cave, but can just picture Mustang shouting at him in anger. He hears Hawkeye’s comment to Mustang: _“You learned that the hard way, didn’t you?”_ Instead, he takes his jacket off and wraps it around her. When she falls asleep, she’s curled up at his side.

None of them talk about how she is covered in someone else’s blood.

May watches the sleeping form of the girl just a year or two younger than her. It strikes Al that despite the fact that they are similar in age and size, mentally and emotionally wise, they’re very different. Al knows that May can fight – he saw just how well during training sessions and the number she was given ranked her very high on the threat list, right below Ling – and she carries the weight of her entire clan on her shoulders. This isn’t just about her life or death for her.

“You can sleep; I’ll take the first watch,” Al says quietly. The sun is just starting to rise, but neither of them was able to sleep after finding the almost feral Nina.

But May just shakes her head. “We need something to eat. That rabbit you caught yesterday morning was good, but it was still yesterday morning.” She rubs at her face, as if trying to wipe away any exhaustion, and then pushes herself to her feet. “I saw some bushes bearing some fruit nearby. I’ll bring some back and you can tell me if they’re okay to eat or not.” She smiles; and he can see just how tired she is. “You were the only one to read the books, after all.”

Al watches May slip out of the cave. Right before dawn is a good time to hunt and gather food because a lot of the tributes were just waking up and were too tired to do much of anything. Whoever took control over the cornucopia – and it was surely that group of four career tributes – were probably sitting pretty fat and chill. What he wouldn’t do for just a piece of chicken or a slice of Winry’s apple pie…

“Wake up, Al,” he mutters, smacking himself in the face. No matter how tired he is, he can’t fall asleep, not until May comes back at least, but even then, he wants her to be able to sleep first.

Ed is probably so mad at him right now, not making himself the number one priority. It’s almost like Al wants to die – but he knows that’s not true either. He wants to live, desperately so, but he can’t just abandon Nina and May either. If he did somehow survive the Games after doing so, he’d never be able to forgive himself and it would haunt him until his dying days, maybe even after death.

*

The fifth day is when things get…awkward. So far, they’ve managed to keep away from the career tributes, but a fire nearly killed them in the cave and they had to leave. It made them feel like nomads in a dangerous land, like the Eastern desert that separated Amestris and Xing. They’re scouring for food, Al going to check a trap that he set up the night before, May showing Nina what type of berries to pick, when Ling comes crashing in. He literally falls out of a bush right on top of May.

Her scream is what startles Al and, even though he knows it’s stupid, he can’t stop himself from shouting, “May!” and running in her direction as fast as he can.

 _“Run away from screams, not towards them,”_ Mustang warned him. _“Don’t be a hero.”_

Yeah, like Al was ever going to listen to something like that.

But instead of someone getting brutally murdered before his eyes, he sees May repeatedly slapping a very dazed-looking Ling in the chest and Nina looking both confused and terrified, berries smashed all over her face and shirt.

“Ling.” Al carefully peels away the still very much furious May away from the other Xing tribute. “Are you okay?”

The other boy collapses to his knees and reaches a shaking hand out towards Nina. “So…hungry…”

Al and May sigh at the same time. In an arena filled with killers, the only thing Ling cares about his food. How so very typical. Al gives him some berries and then goes back to checking traps, May at his side. Nina stays behind with Ling. It’s better to not all be clumped together. They’d be easier to spot.

“I don’t trust him,” May grumbles as Al gets a squirrel out of one of his traps. “We should leave him behind.”

“May…we need him. Numbers make us stronger.” Al knows that he cannot break this to her any gentler, but it’s a fact that he’s been thinking about long and hard. He wished days before that they would be able to meet up with Ling. He knows that May can protect herself and is willing to protect him – he saw that when she came back to help him out of the cave – but when it comes to strength, Al is the only one. Like it or not, they need someone like Ling; and while May didn’t trust him, Al trusted him if they ever came against the career tributes. “When the time comes…if the time comes…I’ll step back. But Ling is a good guy. He’ll help us if push comes to shove or if we need to fight. Three against four is better than two against four – and that’s not even counting Kimblee.”

For a while, May doesn’t say anything, like she’s angry with him. Al doesn’t say anything either. She’ll talk when she wants to talk. And she does, right before they get back to the area where Nina and Ling are. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “And he is good. Things are just…complicated.”

Sibling relationships were very rarely simple. Al has known this all his life.

*

The seventh night is when everything goes to hell.

Al is sleeping, May’s back pressed against his and Nina curled up against him, when Ling’s hands shake him awake. He sits up, rubbing his eyes, and sleepily asks, “Is it my turn–?”

Ling clamps a sweaty hand against his mouth and Al’s eyes widen. The other boy doesn’t have to say anything. His eyes say it all: _We have to go NOW._

Al nods his head. First, he wakes May, a finger already pressed to his lips to warn her not to speak. She is alert almost immediately. Nina is harder. She struggles to stay asleep and starts to shake when she realizes that things aren’t as safe as they have been. At least she won’t speak though. Ling leads the way, as silent as can be. May is the same. They’re both light on their feet. Meanwhile, Al can’t help but feel like he’s practically crashing through the woods. Every step he takes seems to make some sort of noise. Nina is the same, stumbling and staggering as they hurry through the dark.

And fall into a clearing right where Kimblee is seemingly waiting for them.

“I’ve been wondering where you all ran off to,” he greets with a predatory grin.

Before anyone can say anything, Kimblee launches himself towards May, but it’s like Al just knew it was going to happen because he jumps in the way. Both Al and Kimblee go crashing to the ground. It isn’t an eloquent fight. Hawkeye would sigh, Izumi would smack him upside the head, and Mustang would probably shake his head in disgust. But Al isn’t thinking of all the fighting techniques he was taught over the past few weeks.

He’s thinking, _How dare Kimblee try to hurt May! I won’t let him hurt anyone else!_

It’s the hottest anger that Al has ever felt, so hot that he almost doesn’t feel the first punch to the face. Kimblee somehow manages to get on top and throws another punch that connects. The third time, Al is able to catch his fist and punches Kimblee in the gut in return. The older boy grunts and stops just enough for Al to be able to shove Kimblee off him and stagger to his feet.

“Alphonse!”

It’s Nina’s voice that catches Al off guard and he whips around and feels like the world has been pulled out from underneath him.

Ling is being sat on by the fat career tribute boy, unable to move, much less fight. The headband boy has a hold of May, one arm over her chest and the other under her chin, holding her up off the ground so that she struggled to breathe and move. And then there is that beautiful career tribute girl, pressing a knife against Nina’s pale throat.

The girl smiles. It is not a pretty smile at all. “You all did pretty well, considering how weak you are. I’d congratulate you, but, well, here you are, about to die. Not much worth celebrating, is it?”

“Let her go,” Al growls.

“Or you’ll what?” Kimblee laughs from behind.

Al tightens up, practically shaking, but says nothing. Kimblee is right, after all. What would he do? One against four, maybe five if that dark boy was around. It isn’t a good number. Mustang would say run – but Al also knows that Mustang wouldn’t run in this case either. He learned after the sixth day that all of Mustang’s advice was based off things he hadn’t or had done – things that had almost gotten him killed. Half of winning was just sheer dumb luck.

“Don’t feel too bad,” the beautiful girl says. “This girl was dead the moment her name was called. There was nothing you could do about it to save her anyways.”

And then she cuts Nina’s throat, right in front of his eyes.

“Nina!” All Alphonse can do is watch in horror as blood spills from the little girl’s throat and she collapses to the ground, completely unmoving. “ _NO_!”

He leaps forward, meaning to go to Nina and ignore everyone else, but Kimblee grabs him from behind and holds him back. Al doesn’t care though. He just wants to get to Nina, to save her somehow, even though she’s beyond help. When Kimblee slams him face first into the ground, a rock slicing his cheek open, he doesn’t care. He struggles and screams incoherently. In the back of his mind, he can hear May crying out and Ling gasping for words, but he doesn’t care. Kimblee is having a grand time kicking the hell out of him, but he doesn’t care.

All he sees is Nina’s pale face, her scared eyes, and the pool of blood seeping into the leaves and dirt.

It’s just… He failed her. Seven days in and he failed her. He couldn’t even protect her for a whole week. No matter what Mustang and Hawkeye told him during training, he knew that they fought viciously to protect and save one another. Only two people in the history of the Games won simultaneously. You don’t do that by failing. You don’t do that by being weak. And he’s weak. He’s not as strong as Ed; he’s not as smart as his father; he’s just… He’s Alphonse Elric, and he’s nothing but a failure at protecting the people he cares about.

Alphonse howls, the same way Ed did when Al’s name was drawn, and pushes himself to his feet so violently that he knocks Kimblee to the ground. Without thinking, he picks a sharp stick and rams it straight into Kimblee’s gut. The older boy grunts for a second, grasping onto the stick, and then shouts loudly when Al pulls the bloody stick out. He turns and immediately charges on the girl, who froze the moment Al attacked Kimblee. It’s a stupid idea. She snaps out of it quickly and throws a dagger at him, which hits him clean in the arm – but that doesn’t stop him. He swings the stick wildly. She’s able to dodge, but doesn’t have enough time to react for his second swing, which hits her in the head and knocks her down a small hill.

“Oi!” the headband boy yells. He’s distracted just enough for May to escape his grasp. Using as elegance that Al knows he isn’t capable of, she twists out of his grip and then uses his own arm to swing up and kick him clean in the face. He yelps and stumbles backwards over a tree root. May and Al take one look at each other and then turn on the fat boy sitting on top of Ling.

The fat boy whimpers. May and Al attack. He jumps off Ling and runs in the direction of where the beautiful girl fell. Together, they pull Ling to his feet and he mutters his thanks. Al grasps the stick and turns back in the direction of Kimblee, only to see that the older boy is gone, a steady trail of blood following in his wake.

Al’s shoulders slump and he drops the stick at his feet. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to – and so he looks back at Nina’s lifeless body and begins to tremble. Tears spring into his eyes. Finally, the tears are coming, just as Hawkeye said they would. He shakily makes his way over to the girl and collapses to his knees, pressing his hands against the gash as his body began to seemingly collapse on itself.

“I failed her,” he cries. “I told myself that if I could just protect her, if I could keep her alive even to my death, then I would feel like I did something.” He pressed his hands into his face, bending over towards Nina, and felt everything constricting inside of him. “Instead…instead I watched her die.”

A small hand presses against his back, May’s hand. He can feel it shaking too and he knows that she is crying as well. He hates it, hates this weak feeling, hates feeling pathetic, hates crying, hates the bloody wound on Nina’s neck, hates the grass and blood stains on his knees, hates the career tributes, hates Kimblee, the Hunger Games, Central, King Bradley…

“Why!” Al shouts, looking up at the sky as the cannon booms just once. “Why do you do this? Why do you punish children for your sins? I don’t understand! How does an innocent girl’s murder bring you joy and excitement? Where is the justification for this? Where!”

Ling puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come, we have to get out of here before light.”

“I can’t…” Al smoothes down Nina’s brown hair. “I can’t just leave her…not again…not like this… I promised…I promised that I would take care of her…”

“And you did,” May whispers painfully. “But it’s time to take care of yourself now.”

As they pull him away back into the shadows, away from Nina’s body which will be picked up soon, Al feels a heaviness in his heart that was not there before. He sits in his soul, weighing him down with every step he takes, but he understands it now. He knows what Ed’s rants and raves about the Central feel like, not just what they sound like.

_I won’t forget you, Nina; and I won’t let them forget you either._

*

A pack of wolves nearly kills them. One bites into Al’s leg and it’s one of the most painful things he’s ever experienced. May bats it away with a stick and they’re all able to climb into trees. The problem is that he’s bleeding out, no matter the makeshift tourniquet May tied on him; and even if the bleeding were to stop, he’d still get an infection.

“I can’t believe I’m going to die from a dog bite,” Al groans, leaning his head back against the tree. If Ed had been the one to be bitten, it wouldn’t have mattered. His prosthetic leg always held strong. Instead, Al is all soft tissue and muscle and blood.

“You’re not going to die!” May insists angrily. But Ling looks at them sideways and doesn’t say a word.

An hour later, with Al trying not to groan in pain, a soft ding in the air catches their attention. May jumps to her feet, ever the balancer, and points in the direction. “A parachute!” It gets caught higher up in the tree, but she’s able to climb up there with ease and then back down. She opens the tin up and her face lights up even in the dark. “It’s a healing kit from Central, top of the line, from your mentors.”

As May gets to work on patching up his wound, the only one in their group to know any sort of field medicine at all, Al takes the tin and finds a note inside. _I’m sorry I couldn’t help you sooner,_ _Hawkeye._ Al closes his eyes and crumples the note in his fist. He knows that she’s not talking about his leg wound.

“It’s nice that your mentors are looking out for you,” May says, sounding distant again. He sees how she is determinedly looking at his leg and not at Ling, who has always looked away. “But Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang are known for going out of their way to get what they need.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty incredible when they’re not tossing you around like a rag doll during training.” Al suddenly winces when she starts closing up his wound. She looks at him apologetically, but he just nods his head for her to continue and grinds his teeth. “Good thing I’m not afraid of needles.”

*

A cannon boom wakes them all up. Al looks around, terrified that he’s going to find that Ling and May have finally turned on one another, but instead sees that they too are looking around in confusion.

All of them have the same question in mind: _Who died?_

The end of the day turns to night. Al spends the whole time hopefully wishing that it’s one of the career tributes and is too distracted to find any good food. Kimblee, they could handle. He was already pretty seriously injured. If one of the career tributes died…

The music begins as it does every time someone died during the day and they all look up. Kimblee’s face shows up, grinning and sardonic and nothing what Al wanted. He almost punches a tree, but instead folds in on himself.

“One of the careers must have turned on him,” May says quietly.

Al looks out into the darkness of the forest. “They’ll all turn on each other eventually. None of them care about anyone except themselves.”

*

“This time, we bring the attack to them,” Ling says two nights later.

“That’s insane,” May scoffs.

Ling tosses her a look of irritation. “We’re always on the defensive. We’re never going to get the upper hand that way.” He looks at Al, waiting for his say in the matter, but Al doesn’t really know what to say. By now, thanks to the fancy medicine from Central, his leg is pretty much back to normal, so physically, he’s okay. Mentally…

Al doesn’t know what he’d do if he came across that group again. Nina’s lifeless eyes and pale face flash behind his eyes every time he tries to sleep. The dagger crossing her throat jerks him away. When it rained, he couldn’t help but think that even the water couldn’t wash her blood from his hands.

“I think he’s right, May,” Al sighs. “One way or another, this has to end. And you know Central doesn’t like it when the Games go on for too long. There hasn’t been a death in two nights. They’ll burn this place to the ground if it means speeding things up.”

May looks at him carefully, but then nods her head just once. “I trust you, Al.”

They make a plan. It’s stupid, foolhardy, bold – just the type of plan that Ed would love and Winry would yell at him for. Except this time it’s Al that comes up with the plan, taking a page out of his big brother’s book, and there is no Winry around to yell at him. There are, however, sideways glances from May that he tries to ignore. If she doesn’t agree with him though, she doesn’t say anything.

At least not until they’re heading in the direction of their enemy. “Please don’t get yourself killed because you’re upset and angry over Nina’s death,” she tells him, grasping onto his hand tightly.

Al looks down at her. His mind tells him that he should smile reassuringly, but the muscles of his face won’t move. He’s all out of smiles. The Games have exhausted him of that. “This isn’t about revenge. It’s about surviving.”

“So you’re not thinking about what you’ll do to that girl the moment you see her?”

Al hesitates, just for a second, but it’s just enough for May to catch it. She lets go of his hand and turns away from him, walking just a little faster so that she’s ahead of him. A sliver of shame worms its way into his heart. What he said was true – and then it wasn’t. It should be true, but he knows that he wants his revenge too. He’s still reeling from failing Nina and can’t stop thinking about it. What if it had been May in Nina’s place? What if May was hurt or killed and there was nothing he could do about it? The thought nearly made him freeze up and back out of the plan.

It’s too late for that though. It was too late the moment his name was drawn.

*

According to the plan, May goes first. Al hates that part of the plan, but it was the one part that May insisted on. Only the fat boy and the headband boy are there at the cornucopia, lazily picking through all that they had gathered and stolen from dead tributes. May darts up behind them with ease. She grabs a bag of apples – and then drops one. It bounces and rolls down to the career tributes’ feet.

“What the…?” The fat boy turns around and spots May, who squeaks in fear. “Not my food!”

May runs away as quickly as possible, the apples still in her hand, and the fat boy chases after her, surprisingly fast for his size.

The headband boy sits up from his lazy position. “Ugh, can you take a break for once? At this rate, you’re going to eat all of our rations–” By the time he turns around, both May and the fat boy have disappeared into the forest and the headband boy is all on his own. He scratches his head.

Meanwhile, in the forest, Ling disposes of the fat career tribute as humanely as possible. Al hates the idea of killing. Even when it comes to the girl that killed Nina, he’s unsure of what he’ll do. Hawkeye told him that avoiding killing someone during the Games was impossible, but Al doesn’t know if he can do it even if he thinks it’s what he wants. Shamefully, like a guilty schoolboy who knows that other students are cheating but says nothing of it, Al sits and waits until Ling comes back, cleaning his sword.

One down, three to go.

May darts on the other side of the forest from them, this time in full sight of the headband boy, who jumps to his feet in shock. “Oh, you’re a little brat for coming into our territory!” he shouts, and then he too chases after her. The idea of using May as bait makes Al feel sick to his stomach. Intentionally putting her in harm’s way… That’s the last thing he wanted to do.

Al and Ling run into the clearing and dive into the area where all the weapons have been stashed. This is what they’ve sorely needed. Ling’s one sword was the only weapon they had between them. Al’s not one for weapons – never has been, never will be – but he knows that he needs protection and that he needs things to protect with. He even finds a small box of throwing knives that he knows May will love and he pockets them hastily.

It’s right when he stands up to move to the next area when a knife suddenly digs itself into the box next to his head. When he turns around, there’s that beautiful girl and the small boy striding towards them, all arrogance and calmness. That type of calmness shouldn’t be possible during the Games.

“I just knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me,” the girl teases as she pulls out two more daggers. Not quite onto par with May’s knife throwing level, but still deadly.

“Ling–”

But the warning comes just a little too late. With shocking speed, the small boy dashes across the field and is on top of Ling right as the Xing tribute turns around. Al stands there for a second, gaping stupidly, before he remembers himself and is just barely able to dodge a throwing knife. She doesn’t throw the second knife, but attacks him head on. When she leaps on him and knocks him backwards, Al instinctively grabs her by the wrists, rolls onto his back, curls up and presses his feet against her chest, and kicks her as hard as he can. The grunt and look of surprise on her face fills Al’s chest with a bit of satisfaction. It looks like Hawkeye’s training was going to come in handy after all.

As he jumps to his feet, the girl drags herself to hers, holding onto her ribs. Ah, some broken bones then. _Good, that will slow her down._ These career tributes were ridiculously fast.

“I’m going to enjoy bleeding you out,” the girl snarls, “but not before I make you watch that Xing girl die.”

“Keep talking,” Al responds, “because I’m not going to let that happen ever.” He thinks of Nina. Her laughter when all of the cheese on his cracker fell off into his lap. The little smile she wore sometimes despite how scared she was. How fast she could run whenever they goofed off during training and played tag. The words that never came out of her mouth. Her lips trembling when Barry was interviewing her in front of millions of people. The tears she shed the night before the Games and he hadn’t gone inside to comfort her. “I’m not going to let you kill anyone ever again.”

When the girl goes to throw a knife at him, he ducks – only to find that no knife was thrown. He blinks, slightly confused, until he looks up and is met with a punch to the face and tumbles to the side. It was just a distraction. He fell for something that dogs fell for, when you fake-throw a ball and they go for it anyways. _What an idiot!_

Before he can get up though, the girl is on top of him and shoves a knife into his face. He barely has enough time to grab her by the wrists and stop her from surely killing him. Al has known all his life that girls are much stronger than most men give them credit for, but this girl’s strength is unreal. He strains, grunting and gritting his teeth, trying to shove her off him and get the knife out of his face, but she pushes down relentlessly, a terrible grin on her face and a wild look in her eyes.

“You’re going to die, Alphonse Elric,” she hisses, the knife gleaming in the sun so close to his eye.

He can’t afford to look over, but if he did, he would find Ling dodging the small boy’s vicious attacks and May just barely dodging the headband boy’s blows. It’s clear to Al that maybe going on the offensive wasn’t a good idea. They’re going to die and then these stupid career kids are going to turn on each other and Winry will be so upset and Ed will do something incredibly stupid–

**BOOM!**

A loud explosion knocks the girl off him with a scream and the whole area is enveloped in a cloud of smoke. His vision is blurred; his ears are ringing from the boom; and everything just seems off.

Al rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself on all fours, breathing hard and coughing. At first, he thinks that the cannon has gone off, meaning that someone has died, and he drags himself to his feet, wobbling slightly and shouting, “May! Ling! May!”

Somewhere in the smoke, May’s voice shouts back, “Alphonse!”

There’s another explosion, this time accompanied by a flashing light that looks like fire. Another scream occurs and it startles Al into action. He blindly runs in the direction of May’s voice and promptly trips over something. When he looks back at what he tripped over, he gasps when he sees the beautiful girl’s prone body, her clothes and skin burnt and blackening. Central must’ve decided to end the Games with a fiery bang.

Clambering back to his feet, Al shouts, “May!” again.

She returns with another, “Alphonse!” He finds her a minute later and she runs into his arms, clinging onto him tightly. He sees that the edge of her pants caught on fire from the explosion, but she was able to put it out. She looks up at him with wide and confused eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Where’s–?”

May suddenly points behind him and yells, “Look out!”

Al jerks around, sees the small dark-haired boy jumping towards them with a knife. He doesn’t think; he just moves, instinctively jumping to shield May from the blow. When the blade goes in his gut, he cries out in pain. The boy digs the knife in deep and ruthlessly. Right when the boy pulls out the knife, there’s another explosion and Al and May are knocked to the ground, Al on top of her, while the boy is blown back. He’s dizzy and rolls off top of May, blearily looking up into the cloudy sky, unable to concentrate on May shouting and crying over him, pressing her hands into his bleeding wound.

A strange whooshing sound comes into his hearing and the smoke violently is blown away. Hanging in the air above them is some sort of helicopter. _I’m not dead yet,_ Al thinks deliriously, thinking of the copters that take away dead tribute’s bodies. The doors open and–

“What do you think you’re wearing – a full suit of armor? You’re a stupid boy, Alphonse!” Roy Mustang shouts down from the open doors of the helicopter. But no, Mustang isn’t in the Games. He’s done his time, alongside Hawkeye. He can’t be here.

 _I’m losing it because of the blood loss,_ Al thinks. _I’m seeing things._

But then Mustang is kneeling beside, Hawkeye standing behind him and ordering some other men in uniforms around. She’s carrying a large gun. A man and woman in a uniform he’s never seen strap him to a gurney and take him to the helicopter. Once inside, they immediately start treating his wounds, the sound of the aircraft blocking out whatever they’re saying.

“May…”

And there she is, at his side, grasping onto his non-bloodied hand, tears streaming down her dirty face. Mustang and Hawkeye are back in the copter too and then they’re going up up up and Mustang is saying something to him and May is crying and…

*

White ceilings. Really white. Like the cleanest he’s ever seen. And super bright lights.

Which…can’t be right. He’s in a forest. He’s in an arena. He’s in the Games.

_Wait, am I dead?_

“You’re awake!”

Al looks over just in time to be tackled backwards into the bed. When he’s able to get his bearings straight, he catches the grinning and relieved face of his brother, Ed.

“What…what are you doing here, Ed?” Al takes a look around the room, but it’s just white walls with one white door and a bed and a chair and the two brothers in it. “Or rather, where is ‘here’?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Ed says as he sits back in his seat. “Just know that I never once forgot about you.”

“I already know that, brother,” Al replies. A thought pops into his head. “Where’s May? Or Ling?”

“May’s in another room getting checked on by a doctor,” Ed tells him. “She’s fine. You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Just focus on getting better.”

Al furrows his brow. Of course he’s going to worry about her. Ed’s his brother and he cares pretty deeply, but he also doesn’t understand what Al and May went through together. “What about Ling?”

At this, Ed looks at the ground. “They…they couldn’t get to him in time. Central captured him.”

Al says nothing, just stares off in the distance. Central had Ling. He’s not sure what that means necessarily, seeing as how Al didn’t even know who had _him_. But Ed is here; and if Ed is here, then that means whoever pulled him and May out of the Games are the good guys.

“Ah, the survivor is awake,” Mustang announces when he steps inside the room, Hawkeye behind him. “I knew you wouldn’t give up easily.”

Al sits up straight despite feeling kind of weak while Ed leans back in his chair. “Sir.”

Mustang grins. “I could get used to the sound of that. After all, I am a colonel now.”

“What’s…what’s going on?” Al asks tentatively.

“Let’s keep it simple for now, shall we?” Mustang replies. “A group of likeminded people came together and we all formed the same conclusion: it’s about damn time that someone knocked King Bradley off his pedestal and made Central pay for their crimes.”

Ed nods his head. “They broke you out.”

Hawkeye looks him right in the eyes and the intensity almost makes him look away. “We knew that we had to get you out of there before we made our first move.” She is unapologetic but not unkind when she adds, “You’re a survivor, but you’re not a killer.” Not like her, not like Mustang. They are different. They killed during the Games. Al couldn’t bring himself to even when faced with the girl that murdered his friend.

His brother grasps his hand. “I’m proud of you, Al.”

“We need to talk to your brother now – alone,” Mustang says firmly.

“Anything you say to him, you can say to me,” Ed replies, looking the older man with as much fury and stubbornness that he can muster. Al has always tried to be so respectful when it came to adults; Ed is still of the mind that he is an adult.

“Why don’t you go get your friend Winry?” Hawkeye suggests. “I’m sure she’ll want to see Al; and by the time you come back, we’ll be done.”

Ed grumbles, but then concedes, standing up and shuffling out the door. Al’s heart jumps the second Ed vanishes from sight, scared that this is all a dream and he’ll wake up back in the arena and won’t see his brother ever again, but Mustang sits down in the chair in his stead and fixes a careful look on him.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Mustang says, “but we’re going to need your help, May’s too. And we’re going to do what we can to get your friend Ling back too. Are you with us?”

Al looks from Mustang to Hawkeye, both of them wearing the same serious expressions they had during his training back in Central, and nods his head. Things were never easy here.

*

Al finds May sitting outside in the grass eating the regulated lunch they were given every day – a simple sandwich, a piece of fruit, and milk. She’s on her own, just picking at the lunch, seemingly in a daze. He walks up to her, making sure to make enough noise so that his presence is known, and then says, “Is this spot taken?”

May looks up at him, blushes a little, and then shakes her head.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“My arm is healing pretty fast,” she responds, wiggling her right arm that’s hanging in a sling. “The doctors said it wasn’t that bad of a break.”

Al frowns. “I didn’t even know you broke it. When…? The headband boy?” She nods her head. Al sighs and sets his tray down. “I didn’t really do a good job in protecting you.”

May lightly smacks him on the arm. “Of course you did. You saved my life a bunch of times. I owe you.”

“Nah, I was just doing what I thought was right.”

They sit in silence, enjoying the sun, the birds chirping, and being able to be in each other’s company without worrying about someone trying to kill them. Well, that isn’t exactly true. If Central knew where they were, they would try to kill them. A lot has happened over the past month, but especially in the past week. Everything that Al thought he knew about Mustang and Hawkeye and even the world was skewed and changed. There’s a rebellion against a government built up on lies and treachery.

“It feels like life is just one big Hunger Game and we’re all tributes,” Al says.

May leans against him. “I’m glad to have you as an ally then.”

That’s what they really needed in this life, didn’t they? They just need allies. Al knows that he has plenty of allies to back him up, more people than he ever expected. It’s not just Ed, Winry, and Aunt Pinako anymore. It’s Mustang and Hawkeye. It’s Izumi and her husband. Other tribute mentors from other places like the shiver-inducing Olivier Armstrong and her brother a super muscular and super emotional Alex Armstrong, Ishavalan mentors Scar and Miles, and of course, May Cheng. Al’s not alone and he never has been, even when he thought he was.

“This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” May says.

Al nods his head. “But we’re a group made up of victors, survivors, and fighters. If that’s not something Central should fear, then nothing is.”

Who could have known that his name being drawn out of a bucket would lead to this? Al thought that he was going to die, but instead, it’s like he’s been reborn into a completely new life and it was time to let their world become new again too. The revolution is here. And if the people he cared about were going to fight, then so was he, to protect them, just as he always has.


End file.
